Mommy’s Hypnotic Discipline Chapter 1: Hypnotized Daddy Spanks His Daughter

Mommy’s Hypnotic Discipline

Chapter One: Hypnotized Daddy Spanks His Daughter

By mypenname3000

Copyright 2018

Note: Thanks to WRC264 for beta reading this!

Anna Miller

“Valerie!” I roared when I walked into the disaster of my kitchen. Flour covered one counter and spilled over the floor. My induction stove, set on the island counter, had something burned and crusted to the glass surface. Eggshells were scattered over another counter, the milk was left out, and the sink was full of dishes. “Valerie, where are you?”

I whirled around. I couldn’t believe the mess I found. My package couldn’t arrive soon enough. What was wrong with that girl?

“Valerie!” I shouted as I marched back out of the kitchen, my hair sweeping about my face. My feet were tired from my day at work. My hips swayed. My fingers flexed and relaxed. “Valerie, where are you?”

“What, Mom?” my daughter shouted from the den, sounding exasperated.

I took a right down the short hallway, passing the guest bedroom and first-floor bathroom and burst into our den. It was an entertainment room. My daughter was sitting on the floor with her friend, Wendy, beside her. They both had pouches of frosting and were decorating cupcakes sitting on a baking sheet resting between them.

“What the hell did you do to my kitchen?” I demanded.

“We had to make cupcakes,” said my daughter, looking up, apprehension on her pale face. The nineteen-year-old college girl swallowed, holding a bag stuffed full of pink frosting. Her light-brown hair fell in a bushy sweep around her face, her brown eyes darting wildly, searching for salvation.

Her friend, our neighbor’s daughter Wendy, swallowed. She had her black hair falling in a braid down her back. She was a slender and lean girl, only eighteen but not for much longer. She breathed in deeply, looking like a doe before the wolf.

She should be afraid.

“You left my kitchen an utter disaster!” I shouted at my daughter. “How did you make that much of a mess to make some cupcakes?”

“It was a work in progress,” my daughter said; her face set. She deliberately spread frosting onto a cupcake. “I need to get these made for the bake sale tomorrow. I told you about that.”

“You didn’t say you would coat my entire kitchen in flour!” My blood pounded through my veins. “Why did you not clean it up?”

“We’re still baking!” my daughter answered, giving me a defiant look. She used to be such a sweet thing. Now she just glared at me and fought with me. She never did anything right. When I called her out on it, she gave me lip. “So relax, Mom. Don’t be a bitch.”

“What did you call me?” I demanded.

Wendy sat stiff as I passed her to loom over my daughter.

“A bitch,” she said, slowly, carefully. “I’ll clean it up.”

“When?” I demanded. “Why didn’t you just clean it up while the cupcakes were baking?”

“Because,” she answered.

“Because why?”

She shrugged and frosted another cupcake.

“You march in there right now and you clean the kitchen, young lady! I have dinner to cook, and I can’t do it when it’s filthy!”

“I’m frosting cupcakes!” she said. “When I’m done, Mom!”

“When you’re done?” My voice rose an octave. “You’ll do it right now!”

“Why?”

My hands balled tight, my fingernails biting into my flesh. My breasts rose and fell in my blouse as I fought the urge to grab her hair and slap her. “Because I told you to, that’s why! Get off your lazy ass and clean it up.”

She frosted another cupcake.

“Um… I have to go,” Wendy said, her voice soft.

She set down her pastry bag and slowly rose. My daughter ignored her and kept frosting. My pulse throbbed in my throat. I didn’t know what to do. Valerie was disobeying me. I should grab her and spank her. Discipline her. But that should be a man’s job.

That was the problem. My husband and I never disciplined her.

Wendy fled, her braid dancing behind her.

“Well?” I demanded of my daughter. “Are you going to clean up your mess?”

“Eventually,” she said. “I’m busy, Mom.”

My teeth ground together.

“What’s going on?” my husband asked from behind me.

I whirled around to see Mitch there, wearing his blue jeans and a tight t-shirt. He must have just gotten home from work. He was a tall man, his sandy-blond hair cut short. He had a buff face, a scar on his chin that was pale compared to his tan face.

“Your daughter is refusing to clean up the kitchen!” I told him. “She’s giving me lip and called me a bitch.”

“I said you were acting like a bitch,” my daughter muttered. Then she hopped to her feet and darted past me to her father. She threw her arms around him, pressing that nubile body against his.

The little slut.

“Daddy, Wendy and I were just making cupcakes for the bake sale at my college tomorrow,” she said in that breathy, wheedling voice. It was all girlish and innocent now, all defiance gone. “I just haven’t had a chance to clean it. I tried to tell mom that, but she just started screaming at me. She made Wendy flee by yelling at me.”

“She refused to clean it up. My kitchen is destroyed,” I said.

“Destroyed?” Mitch asked, giving me a suffering look. “Valerie, honey, you know you have to clean up after yourself.”

“I was going to do it, Daddy,” she said, squirming against him, rubbing that nubile, nineteen-year-old body against his. “I was. I was almost finished with the frosting. See. Then I was going to do it.”

My husband grinned down at her. “Well, it sounds like your mother needs you to get that done first, and then you can finish frosting your cupcakes. Okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” she said.

My husband kissed her on the forehead. “Okay, honey, go get it done. I’m sorry your mother overreacted.”

I ground my teeth as my daughter darted off in those tight shorts she wore. They molded to her tight ass and left her long legs bare. My husband glanced at her for a second and shook his head, glancing back at me.

I glared at him.

“What?” he asked.

“That’s it?” I demanded. “She called me a bitch, she defied me, and you’re not going to punish her?”

“She didn’t seem that defiant to me,” he said. “You don’t have to yell at her. If you just act nicely, treat her like an adult, she’ll respond.”

I marched up to my husband. “We’ve spoiled her. We have to stop coddling her. She’s a brat. You need to be firmer with her.”

My husband rolled his eyes. “What, do you want me to do, spank her?”

“Yes!”

His smile fell off his face. “Jesus, I was joking. We both agreed that spanking’s bad.”

“And look at the results. If you hadn’t come here, she would have left my kitchen a disaster, and I would have had to clean it.”

He shook his head. “Anna, she’s just a young woman. Relax. You’re too stressed out. She’s cleaning the kitchen. Pour yourself a glass of wine, sit down on the couch, and just chill.”

“I have dinner to cook,” I muttered, so disappointed in him. He was such a strong man, but he couldn’t stand up to our daughter. Valerie just had to smile and press her small titties against him, and he would melt.

I bet he wanted to fuck her. To just bend her over and ram into her pussy. To fuck the little slut hard like in those dirty stories…

The doorbell rang.

I whirled away from my husband. I marched through the house, passing the kitchen. I caught a glance of Valerie leaning against the counter texting on her phone, not doing a damned thing. My anger swelled through me. That little whore needed to be spanked.

I would make sure her father started disciplining her.

I wrenched open the door and smiled at the sight of the delivery man and the package he gripped in his hairy hands. Finally. It was time to change things.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mitch Miller

I yawned as I set up from my nap. I liked enjoying those on a Saturday afternoon after getting the lawn mowed and the hedges trimmed. I didn’t need naps when I was in my twenties, but now that I was approaching forty, I appreciated them.

I stepped into the hallway and blinked to find my wife coming out of Valerie’s room. Anna had a satisfied look on her face, her finger playing with the crystal necklace she wore. I tensed. Were they fighting again? Coming home the day before and finding my wife screaming at Valerie had soured me.

“Still mad at her for ruining your kitchen?” I asked. “She did clean it up.”

“Took her half the night,” my wife muttered. “No, no, I was just finding out how the bake sale went.”

“That’s good,” I said, glad not to hear any shouting. My wife was just too hard on Valerie, always putting all this pressure on the poor thing. I peeked into my daughter’s room, expecting to find her crying. I was ready to comfort her.

She was a good girl. I just wished Anna could see that.

Instead of finding her sobbing, Valerie was shaking her head as she sat on her bed. She looked dazed, her eyes a little unfocused. Then she blinked and furrowed her brow. She fell back on the bed, holding her fingers up in the air before her, twitching them.

“Did you catch her smoking weed?” I asked in a low voice. I breathed in but didn’t smell that herbal tang.

“No, no,” my wife said, her fingers playing with that crystal. It caught the hallway light, flashing across my face.

It was a red crystal. A deep ruby. I frowned, glancing at it. The stone was shaped like a long, hexagonal tube tapering to points at the top and bottom. There was a… flaw in the gem. A crack running through its interior that I just wanted to… stare at. It was fascinating the way it bent and wound.

“Can we talk?” my wife asked.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding my head, my eyes staring at the necklace.